Firethorn (Discarded Heroes) (55 page)

EPILOGUE

Tatra Mountains, Poland A Month Later

K
azi stuffed her hands in the wool coat. A bitter wind swirled up and rustled loose strands from her face. She cast a furtive glance to Griffin, who stood on the other side of the Land Rover.

“You can do it, Baby Girl.” His smooth skin rippled under the confident smile.

She licked her lips and returned her attention to the small gate that protected a rustic home and barn from the country road that wound through the mountains. A brilliant blue sky tossed clouds around. With a slow exhale, she crossed the road. Dirt and pebbles crunched beneath her boots. She swallowed.

At the gate, she paused with her hand on the sodden wood. The snow had melted but only recently. She lifted the iron catch and pushed against the barrier. It gave with a slow creak.

As she trod down the left rut gouged into the earth, she wondered why it didn’t feel familiar. Right. Shouldn’t she feel some connection to this place? According to city records, the family had owned the land for more than a hundred years. She rounded a small bend. Trees embraced her into the small fold of forestation.

Kazi checked on Griffin—but now she couldn’t see him.

She stopped, feeling as much cut off from an oxygen source as from the line of sight on the man who’d changed her life. Convinced her to make this trek. No, she couldn’t do this without Griffin. She shouldn’t have insisted on trying. She should go back. Before anyone saw her.

She pivoted.

“Nie wierz? w to!”

Jerked around by the rough voice that cut through her panic, she found herself staring at a pair of familiar green eyes and blond hair.

No…not familiar. Her own.

Their gazes locked, neither moved.

He stared and slowly lowered his hands—the bundle of wood slid from his grasp. “
Przepraszam!
Sorry.” He bent toward the wood but then stopped, his gaze flipping back to hers. “You are the image of her. I…can’t believe it.”

“My name…” A lump swelled in her throat.

“Kazimiera.” He smiled, as if relieved.

Something warm and intimate passed between them, but she wasn’t sure what.

“H–how do you know my name?”

The man placed a large hand on his chest, his features softening. “I’m Kazpar.”

Her heart thudded. Raced. She tried to take a breath not weighted by the anchor of revelation. “My twin,” she whispered. He’d changed so very much. Grown up. Become a man.

He took a step forward, and she saw in his face the decade of loneliness and emptiness that had plagued her. Kazi rushed into his opening arms. His embrace held the scent of family, of acceptance, and…love. Hot tears streaked down her cheeks.

He stepped back and cupped her face.
“Jeste? tak piekna.
So beautiful, like our mother.”

“Kaz?” A feminine voice called through the wintry day. “Where is that wood?”

His eyes brightened. “Come. She will not believe this!”

“Wait,” Kazi said. “I need to get someone.” She jogged back to the car.

Leaning against the car, arms folded and blowing on his hands, Griffin looked up. He scowled as he came off the small compact—fists tight, shoulders hunched—all fight. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She smiled through her tears—she’d cried more tears since meeting Griffin Riddell than she had in the last ten years. Kazi threw her arms around him and held on tight. “I can’t believe you found them. Thank you!” That he’d done the research, tracked them down, then brought her here…“I love you!”

“That’s all I want, Baby Girl. Your love.” He kissed her head. “I can face anything if I have that.”

Location of Former Shack, Virginia

Max strolled across the landscaped lawn toward the large building, a sense of awe infusing him as he took in the structure. Built on the same plot where the Shack once stood, a multistoried building now stared out over the Hudson. A cluster of about a hundred chairs gathered around a fountain—laid out in the shape of the Nightshade symbol—just outside the front doors.

At the front of the gathering huddled the Nightshade team. With Dakota in his arms and Dillon holding on to his first two fingers, Max guided his family that way. The men stood in a semicircle, children running and playing around the fountain, which danced and sang.

Colton and Canyon stood in suits, their wives monitoring the children. Max handed Dakota off to Sydney, who joined the women.

“Max.” Colton hugged him tight.

So did Canyon.

Gone was the machismo that once held their heads high. Days like this changed lives forever. A raw moment to remember a fallen hero. To make sure nobody forgot his name or what he did. To honor his sacrifice. Max still struggled with nightmares, with survivor’s guilt—as the team shrink called it—that Marshall had given his life to save Max’s. A debt he could never repay. But maybe he could say thanks in a different way.

The Old Man approached, the signs of the stroke gone. He shook each of their hands, then moved to a chair with his elegant wife. Now there…there was a couple he could admire. Thick and thin, through good and bad, they were together.

In black pants and light-blue button-down, Squirt nodded behind Max. “There he is.”

When Max turned, it took every ounce of strength not to unload on the man walking down the center aisle with his wife and daughter.

“Mr. Jacobs.”

Max bit his tongue. The guy just didn’t get it. Didn’t understand—

“I don’t expect you to like me,” Warren Vaughn said.

“Good. We don’t have to waste time pretending.”

The words dug deep, Max could tell when Warren looked up at the building, then slowly brought his focus back to Max. “You told me six months ago I didn’t deserve a son like Marshall.”

Don’t respond.

“You were right.” Vaughn’s voice cracked. “I’ve had the chance to review the records, the feats of what my son did with your team.”

“Our team.”

Vaughn swallowed and looked at his wife. “I was a fool. And now…” He knuckled away a tear. “Now I get to live the rest of my life never being able to tell him how
very
proud I am of him.”

The candor, the complete 180, silenced Max.

“I prided myself for years on being an activist, a humanitarian.” He snorted. “I see what men like you have done and are doing…and realize you’re the biggest humanitarians out there, helping people. Fighting for those who can’t fight for themselves.”

Was he hearing the guy right?

“I’ve deposited the whole of Marshall’s inheritance, all his bank accounts—every last penny he’d earned and invested—into the Marshall Vaughn Memorial Fund.”

Max felt his eyes widen.

“Marshall would’ve wanted soldiers like him to get help.”

“How much exactly are we talking?” Squirt asked from behind.

Max glanced at his SEAL buddy, his mind hustling to catch up.

“Let’s just say, you men won’t have trouble funding your endeavor.” Vaughn tucked his wife’s hand in the crook of his elbow. “For a very long time.”

A microphone creaked beside the podium. And the early morning sun illuminated an enormous poster bearing the likeness of Marshall “the Kid” Vaughn as a Nightshade member, in full tactical gear, with a cocky grin and bold eyes, outside the Marshall Vaughn Center for Discarded Heroes.

Metcalfe Residence, Virginia

Two hours later on the back forty of the Metcalfe property, the Nightshade families gathered for lunch. Griffin could not help but watch as the men struggled to shift from a somber memorial in honor of a very good friend and warrior to a happy time with family. Children, laughter, and good food.

Some might say it was disingenuous, dishonoring to the Kid. But Griffin knew better. He’d been the hardest on the Kid—well, besides Max’s fist—but Marshall would not have wanted the team moping around. In fact, if the Kid were here right now, he’d be shouting and rounding up teams for a rugby match.

“Hey,” a soft, beautiful voice blanketed his mind the same time a hand slid around his arm. “You okay?”

Griffin lifted his arm and wrapped it around Kazi. “I am now.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a good thing I like you.”

“You told me you
loved
me.”

“Yeah,” she said lazily, “I did.”

His heart had swelled when she attended an early weekend service with him at church last night. She’d gone up to the bishop during an altar call. Baby Girl, it seemed, was making her way back to God.

Lord, thank You. You turned it all around.
Despite the peace that had taken up residence in his life, what would happen to the team, nobody knew. The general told them to take a sabbatical. Get some rest. Get reacquainted with their families. In Griffin’s case, he’d ordered him to start one. There wasn’t no hurry. And rushing Kazi Faron was about like trying to wade the Mississippi during flood season.

“Hey, Squirt. Get your hand off my sister!” Midas shouted as he tossed the Aussie a football.

Bold and unfazed, John Dighton didn’t move from his position next to the long-legged woman, Willow Metcalfe. He caught the ball and spiraled it to Aladdin.

“She’s got a boyfriend—a military lawyer. Don’t want to mess with that.” Midas snickered and hefted his son from a picnic blanket.

“Back off, Midas. We’re just having a chat,” Dighton said from where he leaned on the fence next to Willow, who laughed and shook her head.

“Did you see that?” Kazi nodded toward the back patio.

Glancing back, Griffin raised eyebrows. “Now that’s interesting.”

Range Metcalfe, the pouting brother whom Griffin had to give credit to—he did, after all, brave a guerilla facility to rescue Canyon—sat talking with the Aussie’s sister. The one Marshall had taken a liking to.

“Not sure if I approve.” Seemed wrong for someone to go after the Kid’s girl. But then…she couldn’t exactly stay single forever, not being that pretty and sweet.

Okay, enough thinking. Time for some action. Griffin pushed to his feet, clapped his hands to Dante, who was already out on the back forty. “A’right. Who’s up for some football?”

His son threw the ball in a perfect arc.

Heading into the yard, much like heading into the field, Griffin knew that you might knock them sideways a bit. You might take down Nightshade. But the team, the men, the heart, would always beat on.

Dear readers,

Thank you for journeying with the Nightshade team, for opening your minds and hearts to the great toll war/combat takes on our men and women in the U.S. Armed Forces. Though I am incredibly sad this series has ended, please remember that we have heroes out there still fighting for your rights and freedom.

It’s one thing for me to write about our military heroes and for you to read about them. It’s one thing to say I/we support them, but it’s another to put that talk into action. I’d like to challenge you to take that knowledge and compassion one step further—adopt a soldier!

Rapid-Fire Fiction is partnering with Soldiers’ Angels, a volunteer nonprofit organization that provides comfort and aid to our troops and their families. You can adopt a soldier and positively impact his/her life simply by following the link below and signing up to send cards, letters, and care packages to a soldier today. They’re sacrificing their lives every day for you. Won’t you please sacrifice time and a few dollars for them? Regardless of whether you partner and become a Soldier’s Angel, please commit to pray for our soldiers, both those abroad and those at home, those who are active duty and those who are veterans. They need your thoughts, prayers, and support!